


Six in the Morning

by bellygunnr



Category: Initial D
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy Ending, Recklessness, Vent Writing, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 13:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20622059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Takumi finds refuge in the home of two friends-- even if it is too early, it's blizzarding, and he scared them half to death.A bit of a vent write and a character study for Takumi Fujiwara.





	1. Chapter 1

It's six in the morning and the sun's still gone, the snow falling heavy, headlights barely penetrating the thick flurry. He's finished his deliveries in record time but now he's driving blind to Akagi, to the Takahashi residence, wondering if he's memorized the way there. The speedometer reads dangerous speeds usually only ever hit on the Akina downhill, certain to get him killed if the snow betrays him. But he can't find it within himself to slow an inch. If he pulled the steering wheel, who would care all that much?

The Eight-Six has been damaged more than once in its long life. The engine's been blown and its bumpers smashed in from races a little too violent for anybody's tastes. Takumi's gotten out relatively unscathed-- he wonders what it'd be like if, like the car, he was blown to bloody bits as well. That'd be a helluva way to go, wouldn't it, he thinks, finally letting up on the gas as he feels more than sees the proximity to the Takahashi house. He wonders if he's being a bother, visiting like this.

He wonders if he cares at all.

Wondering, thinking, all of it done too much for anybody's taste, really, because that's the leading comment of the month. Too spacey, never thinking, practically brain dead upstairs but it's not like it's his fault. No one's really, actually, because everyone has a job to do and he just so happened to have two, three, four, five, six--

Counting, counting, counting, winding himself down from a precipice and finally shutting off the car, welcoming the suffocating darkness as the headlights close shut. Now the engine's dead and he can watch the snow pile up, maybe, if the roar of his engine-- ha, roar-- didn't wake up the Takahashis. If he's lucky, they'd pass it off as some asshole and wouldn't come outside.

(He wanted them to come outside, to see him, to see the Eight-Six's black hood slowly engulfed by a thick layer of snow, the doors frozen shut, Takumi shivering violently because it's gotten so cold and the sun doesn't shine still at six thirty or seven or whatever the fuck time it is).

Reckless, unbelievable, a sleeping, docile beast whose temper was a misstep away from igniting, as described by everyone in joking manners, voices mingling now in one big cacophony. The silence is a mistake, maybe, but at least the engine's off and oh, hey, maybe the snow's slowing because there's some yellow light--

yellow light, yellow light, silhouette eaten by the flurries before two hands smack against the driver side window. Takumi looks up, teeth chattering, trying to decipher which one it is-- dark hair, all whites and monochromes, Ryosuke--

The door's yanked open. Takumi laughs nervously.

"What in God's name are you doing, Fujiwara?" is the first thing Ryosuke's spits. "It's in the negatives. You'll freeze to death out here."

Takumi doesn't have the heart to say that that's exactly what he wants. He lets Ryosuke fumble with the seat belt and forcibly pull him from the car.

"Good God," Ryosuke mutters again. "How long have you been here?"

"Don't know, wasn't long," Takumi says with a wry smile. "Got here fast."

"That is not a good thing," Ryosuke says sharply. "Come inside, now. I'm sure even Keisuke is awake."

Takumi thinks that Ryosuke has a rougher voice when he's tired. He cares less for the polish and the fronds, he thinks, and he just sounds a little nicer. Sounds like his brother, in a way, because they carry the same habit-- Keisuke also drops a few pretenses when he's angry.

Inside, the Takahashi house is warm and brightly lit, Keisuke already stumbling around in a partial panic. Takumi laughs nervously as he sees it; he can't help himself, his nerves are still frayed and sparking at the ends.

"What the hell is Takumi doing here? There's a blizzard outside!" Keisuke says, his voice a croaky growl. "Did Ryosuke set you up to this?"

Takumi shakes his head. "No, uh..."

He isn't sure if he wants to explain why he's here.


	2. Chapter 2

The Takahashi brothers are hospitable when it gets down to it. Takumi has to suppress anxious laughter as Ryosuke drapes a blanket over his shoulders, pressing a steaming cup of tea into his hands. He sets it onto the table. He's shaking too badly to hold it right.

"I'm assuming you were doing tofu deliveries," Ryosuke says. He's standing with his hands on his hips, looking down with pursed lips. "But that doesn't explain why you're here."

Keisuke looks exhausted, ready to kill, if a little concerned. Takumi finally laughs, two desperate hiccups.

"I can't be alone," he settles on, shaking his head. "Everyone else is out of town, even my dad, so..."

Itsuki, Iketani, Kenji, all of them had left to go on some outing-- he forgot what. He hadn't been able to go. He forgets why. His father was on business.

"Can't be alone? You're an adult, Takumi!" Keisuke says harshly, missing the point entirely. He stares blankly as Takumi erupts into a fit of giggles.

God, he feels like shit.

"I mean, if I'm alone-- I'll uh, do something stupid, you see? Like just now? Uh, really stupid, like..." Takumi fumbles for words. He's never been eloquent.

"Takumi... Are you sure you're alright?" Ryosuke asks sharply.

I haven't been alright for a very long time, he thinks blandly, looking up at the older brother.

"No," Takumi says, and this time he's honest. "When I drive, uh, sometimes I can't focus because all I want to do is jerk the steering wheel and go off the side of Akina."

  
apparently, and takumi knew this, that wasn't normal. the takahashis peered at him sleepily and silently before finally registering what he had said, resulting in a flurry of questions both gentle and anxious. he can't help but giggle under the attention.

he hates his stress response, sometimes.

"Really, I'm, uh, fine," Takumi tries to say after an hour, voice choked because he kinda wants to cry.

"I'm glad you arrived here safely," Keisuke says. "You can stay as long as you like."


	3. wings

Takumi does cry, eventually. He cries in the safety of the Takahashi guestroom and doesn't come out for a very long time, even when breakfast is called. He had no idea that either brother knew how to cook, given their cash (and his limited view of the rich from Akina). From the smell seeping in from the kitchen below, though, they knew how to cook very well. And for the first time in a long time--

Takumi felt _hungry._

That was rare.

Wanting to eat and forcing himself to eat were two very different things, all the more dissimilar in the wake of years worth of survival tactics. It was enough of an urge to make him roll out of bed and hurry toward the door, blanket being pulled around his shoulders. He kept it wound tight around his torso even as he peeked outside, ensuring that no one was around.

The hallway was wide and decorated with framed pictures. He passes them by without looking very hard, trotting down the stairwell and into the kitchen...

  
"Look whose awake," Keisuke snickers immediately. "How are you feeling?"

The breakfast wasn't elaborate but consisted of rice, eggs, and miso soup. Takumi stares at the foods, finding them distinctly... in line for the household. Traditional.

"Hungry," he says finally. "Can I...?"

"Have as much as you like," Keisuke says. He gestures toward the counter upon which two bowls had already been arranged. Ryosuke moves aside to allow Takumi room.

"You're sure you're alright?" Ryosuke asks-- his voice is low, rough with what was unmistakably exhaustion. A quick glance shows bags under his eyes, stark against pale skin.

Takumi suddenly feels bad for accepting the food. His hands linger over the basket of eggs, only snatching one up when he realizes uncomfortable questions are the other outcome. He cracks it, raw, into his bowl of rice and quickly begins to beat them together.

"You're allowed to use the pan..." Keisuke hums from behind.

"Don't mess with my eggs," Takumi huffs. With his soup and rice, Takumi settles down on the other side of the kitchen island, across from the two brothers. "I'm okay, promise!"

Ryosuke shakes his head, nostrils flaring as he sighs. Of course Takumi is okay-- perhaps he's okay right now, but what about later? Next week? He doesn't have the heart to dwell on it.

_Like it or not, you fool, you care about him._


End file.
